Harry Potter of the Orphanage: Year One
by xAndromedaBlackx
Summary: What if after all those threats, the Dursleys really did leave Harry in an orphanage? How will this change the Boy Who Lived and the events that transpire at Hogwarts when he attends? First year, AU.
1. Goodbye Dursleys, Hello Orphanage

**Edited October 6th, 2008.  
**

* * *

Harry Potter was not a happy six-year-old. He was never happy. Ever since he had been dumped on the Dursleys' doorstep at Number Four, Privet Drive five years ago, he had never been happy.

Today was no exception. He had finally been let out of his cupboard, which had been a punishment for _something he didn't do_ (and no, it was not homework). He didn't even know _how _he had turned his teacher's hair pink—it had simply _happened_.

Anyway, Harry was now free to roam about the house—not that he wanted to, considering the fact that Dudley had his gang over today. Malcolm, Piers, and everyone else… they were all joining in Dudley's favorite sport of Harry Hunting.

So Harry had decided to go outside. It wasn't like the Dursleys would care about his safety, anyway.

Harry crept down the stairs and ducked into the hall, heading for the door. He didn't make it.

"Hey, Potty," Dudley sneered, waddling into the room with his gang of bullies behind him.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, trying to sound brave and failing miserably.

"Come here," jeered another boy.

"And get hit?" Harry retorted. "No thanks."

Dudley's eyes widened comically—he probably wasn't used to getting cheek from his cousin. "Get him!" he yelled.

Harry now knew that opening the front door and running out was useless, so he tried to duck behind the boys and back to his cupboard.

"Are you scared?" Malcolm—or maybe it was someone else—taunted.

Harry, who had paused to listen to what he had to say, was caught. He glared at his cousin, who lazily raised a fist and punched him in the nose. Harry ducked his head, and Dudley's hand rammed into the side of his face.

Harry winced. Ouch, that hurt.

"You're going to pay for what you said," Dudley said, a vicious grin spreading over his face.

Harry felt scared now. He was getting tired of getting beaten up by his cousin. Oh, how he wished that Dudley would be able to get punched in the nose himself. If Dudley experienced a broken nose, he would know that it was not pleasant.

Harry prepared himself for another blow, but it never came. Instead he heard Dudley cry out.

Harry squinted his eyes open and gasped out in shock.

Dudley was sitting on the ground, his hands held over his nose, which definitely looked broken. Blood was dripping over the floor.

Harry couldn't believe it. What had happened?

Just then, Piers called, "Mrs. Dursley! Harry punched Dudley in the nose!"

"I did not!" Harry snapped indignantly, because he _hadn't_. True, he had wished that Dudley would break his own nose, but he had never done anything to make his wish come true.

Unfortunately, his aunt and uncle, who had come rushing into the room upon hearing Dudley and Piers' cries, did not believe Harry.

"You!" roared Uncle Vernon, grabbing Harry by the collar and shaking him. Harry's glasses nearly fell off his face. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Harry protested, knowing full well that they wouldn't believe him.

"Liar!" Uncle Vernon barked. "That's it! I've had it with you, boy! You've been nothing but trouble from the start, but this is it! Hitting Dudley—I don't know why we put up with you in the first place!"

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"Get your things ready," Uncle Vernon said stiffly. "We're taking you away tomorrow."

Harry had never felt so scared in his whole life. Where would they take him? Would he be dumped on the streets? He could ask someone for help, but he highly doubted they would believe him if he said that his own aunt and uncle left him out on the streets to starve.

"Hurry up, boy!"

Harry did as he was told.

* * *

It turned out that the Dursleys were not dumping Harry in the streets. They were dumping him in an orphanage, to be more precise.

"And his parents died in a car crash, so he needs a place to stay," Uncle Vernon finished.

Harry had packed his things and followed his aunt, uncle, and cousin into the car. They had driven for miles and miles until they reached a small, run-down building with the words _Mr. Well's Orphanage for Orphans _written on it in peeling gold paint. Now Uncle Vernon was explaining the situation to the owner of the place, Mr. Well, a cranking-looking man who did not fit his name.

"Yes, we'll take him," he growled.

"Good." Uncle Vernon nodded, satisfied. Then he turned and left, without sparing a backwards glance at Harry.

Harry glanced up at Mr. Well, who leered back down at him. "I don't like kids," he snapped. "So take your stuff and go find an empty room! Some other kid already here will tell you how everything goes."

Harry nodded quickly. "Yes, sir," he agreed, and picked up his stuff and lugged it toward the hallway Mr. Well was pointing to.

Apparently Mr. Well took this as mockery, because he yelled, "I will not have you miscreants mocking me!"

Harry ignored him and quickly set off down the hall. Some of the doors were opened, and he saw other kids inside. Some of them glanced up at him but never went out to greet him.

He got towards the end of the hall, and a thin girl with reddish-blond hair and blue eyes peeked out at him. "Hi," she finally said after scrutinizing him.

"Hi," Harry responded. "Is there an empty room?"

The girl smiled and nodded. "There's one next to mine," she offered, pointing to the door with the number 26 on it.

"Thanks," Harry said. He paused, wondering if he should say anything else.

"I'm Daphne Greengrass," the girl finally introduced herself.

"I'm Harry Potter."

Daphne smiled before turning back into her room.

Harry entered his room. It was good-bye to the Dursleys forever, and hello the orphanage. He might as well make the best of it.

* * *

**So, that ends the first chapter! I hope you people liked it, and I'll update soon—please review! Thanks for reading :3**

**-xAndromedaBlackx-**


	2. Planning Pranks and Visits

**Edited October 6th, 2008.  
**

* * *

"Will you shut up?" a girl with long auburn hair and blue eyes hissed at her best friend, who was a boy with messy black hair, emerald green eyes, broken glasses, and had a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. "You're making way too much noise!"

"I am not!" the boy retorted angrily. "Besides, this prank was _your _idea. _You're _the one who wanted to prank Arianna and Luja."

The girl scowled. "You promised you'd help," she replied. "And making a lot of noise is _not _helping."

"I'm not making noise!"

"No, all you're doing is blabbering on about _something _or other when you should _shut up _and help me with this prank, and that's not making noise at all!"

"Ha! Told you!"

"It's called sarcasm, you twit!"

"Who are you calling a twit?"

Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass were now eleven. Well, Daphne was eleven, and Harry would be turning eleven in two weeks. They had became best friends during the first week Harry had been dumped in the orphanage, and were now pranksters who loved nothing better than to pull one over on the still a hater of kids and notoriously cranky Mr. Well, who still (unfortunately) owned the orphanage. Pranking the other kids at the orphanage who annoyed them was fun, too.

Right now, the two pranksters were planning to pull… what else?… a prank. It was designed mostly just to scare Arianna and Luja, a pair of twins in the orphanage who were rather stuck-up and snobbish.

Daphne had had the idea, and had asked Harry to help her. Unfortunately for her, Harry was talking five miles a minute about another prank idea he had, this one solely for Mr. Well. It was driving Daphne mad.

"If you don't shut up, I'll set the spiders on _you_," Daphne threatened.

Harry didn't look the least bit scared. "I'm not afraid of spiders," he replied smugly.

Daphne scowled and said nothing.

Harry smirked. He knew he had won this verbal joust.

Daphne checked the clock hanging on the wall. "Six more minutes til lunchtime," she muttered. Then, louder, to Harry, "You'd better not mess this up!"

"Aye aye, captain!" Harry agreed, giving her a mock salute and grinning cheekily. Daphne rolled her eyes.

The pranks the infamous duo of the orphanage played were always executed perfectly. The only mess-up (and exception) had been when Daphne, who probably had multiple-personality disorder (one moment she was as graceful and serene as a swan, the next moment she was tripping over her own two feet and cursing like an adult), was in one of her klutzy-personality-moods and had tripped and fallen just inches past Mr. Well's office. They had been caught and punished by Mr. Well himself, but no one even really cared about being punished by Mr. Well anymore—all he did was force you to stay in your room. And since most of the orphans did that, anyway, this wasn't a big deal or anything.

Harry thought about this as he tiptoed towards the cafeteria, Daphne on his trail just to make sure that he didn't mess anything up. He still remembered the Dursleys—his aunt, uncle, and cousin who had dumped him here. Not that he minded. Living in his own room while having a best friend (even if she was a _girl_) and being able to pull pranks on a cranky old man who hated him without the Dursleys anyplace near was way better than living in a cupboard under the stairs (and that didn't even work out—Aunt Petunia had often complained that Harry was taking up valuable space where she could store brooms and things) with an aunt and uncle who forced you to do chores all day, a cousin who beat you up at every possible moment, and having no friends at all at school.

"All right… you'd better not mess this up," Daphne warned one last time. She leaned back against the door of the cafeteria and gave Harry a scowl. Her long auburn hair got tangled with the zipper of the black jacket she was wearing and as she leaned back up, the strands of hair got caught. She let out a loud shriek as well as a string of expletives not suited for an eleven-year-old girl, and that was when she caught sight of Mr. Well coming towards them, looking to see what had happened… and he would probably catch sight of the spiders as well.

Harry let out a sigh. "And it turns out, in the end, the planner is the one to botch things up." He shook his head sympathetically at Daphne and grabbed his friend by the arm, pulling her away from Mr. Well before he could catch them—after all, eleven-year-old kids could run way faster than a seventy-something-year-old man. "All right, Daphne, on to Plan B…"

"Oh, shut it," Daphne growled, tugging her hair out of the zipper.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards, and current headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was trying very immaturely to unstick two lemon drops, which were his favorite Muggle sweets, when the deputy headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House, Professor Minerva McGonagall, burst into his office without knocking, looking very furious and upset.

"Look at this!" she snapped before Dumbledore could say anything—namely to ask just _why _she looked so angry. She shoved an opened envelope underneath his crooked nose.

Dumbledore read the few ink-stained lines scrawled onto the envelope and his face turned grave.

"Someone should pay a little visit to the Dursleys tomorrow," he told McGonagall.

"Exactly what I was thinking." McGonagall nodded before turning on her heel and walking out of Dumbledore's office.

Dumbledore sighed and finally popped both lemon drops into his mouth—he had long ago given up on getting them unstuck. The letter and the envelope lay on his desk. Dumbledore forgot it was there and accidentally dropped a lemon drop on the still-wet emerald green _H _in the _Mr. H Potter, Room 26, Mr. Well's Orphanage for Orphans, 78 Newmac Road, London_.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall looked up and down the immaculate lawn and frowned. This was where the Dursleys—Harry Potter's last living relatives—lived.

But Harry Potter himself was not here.

Minerva gritted her teeth and stepped up in front of the door. A few nosy neighbors peeked out at her through their windows, obviously wondering why a woman with gray hair wearing robes would be calling upon the perfectly _normal _Dursleys. Minerva shot them an irritated glare and they all quickly stopped watching her.

She knocked sharply on the door. After waiting a few seconds, the door opened, and a tall, bony woman with blond hair peeked out at her.

This must be Petunia Dursley.

The woman seemed to recognize her for what she was—a witch. Mrs. Dursley stared at Minerva through wide, horrified eyes, and made to slam the door in her face.

Minerva stuck her foot in the crack before the door could meet the doorframe. "I would like to see Harry Potter," she said evenly in a crisp tone of voice, even though she knew that Harry wasn't here anymore.

But then, the Dursleys didn't know that.

Sure enough, the woman's eyes widened fearfully. "There is no Harry Potter here!" she exclaimed, and tried to shut the door again.

Minerva knew that as well as Lily Potter's sister did, but she was here to terrorize the Muggles, wasn't she?

"Where is he?" she snapped, pushing the door open.

Petunia Dursley seemed too frightened to push her out again. But even if she did, it would be easy to just _Alohomora _the door and go in.

The room inside was just as impeccably neat and tidy as the front lawn and outside appearance of the house.

Minerva turned and scanned the walls. There were only pictures of an ugly, fat blonde boy, and no one else.

_Even if Harry Potter no longer lives here, one would think that there would be some pictures of him, _Minerva thought angrily to herself.

Petunia Dursley seemed to have recovered herself… slightly. "Y-You were at her wedding," she stammered.

Minerva's eyes narrowed considerably but she said nothing.

"V-Vernon isn't here, and neither is the boy," she continued. "So you should… leave."

Just then, the fat blond boy depicted in all the pictures hanging in the frames on the walls waddled… yes, _waddled_, not walked, into the room.

"Who's that?" he asked rather rudely, pointing to Minerva.

The nerve of the brat!

"Where's Harry Potter?" Minerva demanded of the boy. He didn't look very bright… perhaps he would tell her.

Sure enough, the boy's eyes widened. "The freak?" he asked, ignoring the frantic shaking of his mother's head. "Oh, Mum and Dad got rid of him ages ago."

Minerva already knew that, but she still couldn't help shaking in fury at the way the boy talked about him. She turned and glared at Petunia Dursley.

Sure enough, Lily's sister spoke up in defense of her and her husband's actions. "That brat was nothing but trouble!" she spat. "It was the last straw when he hit Dudley! He should be glad we put up with him in the first place at all!"

The only thing stopping the formidable Transfiguration teacher from hexing the woman were the Muggle protection acts.

She stood up, her face white with rage and turned to leave.

"Oh, and one more thing… _Obliviate_!"

* * *

**A/N: Just to let you all know, I made up Newmac Road. -is American-**

**Please review!**

**-xAndromedaBlackx-**


	3. In Which the Box is Dropped

**A/N: Whoa, has it seriously been over a year since I last updated this story? o.o Well, I did put it on hold for an extended period of time, but I'm posting a new chapter now. XD I just discovered a story quite similar to this one, however - The Orphan: Book One by SaphirePhoenix. She even made Harry a prankster too! And she writes way better than I do. I'm posting a new chapter now, but I may discontinue this story; what do you all say? And in the meantime, go check out SaphirePhoenix's stories XP  
**

**On with the long overdue chapter! XD**

**Oh, and sorry for any spelling mistakes; I'm writing this directly in Document Manager on ffnet because my Microsoft Word program is being an arseface. So no spellcheck for me :P**

* * *

Plan B was not working out too well for the pair of pranksters.

The two of them, Daphne and Harry, had managed to evade Mr. Well and had escaped to their rooms on the far side of the orphanage. Daphne was panting from exertion as she carefully set the cardboard box filled with small harmless black spiders down on the bedside drawer.

However, Mr. Well had glared at them all throughout lunch, and they had no choice but to postpone the prank.

Now most of the children were in the large "recreational center," which was basically just a large, bare room, empty of most things except for a few secondhand books and board games and a broken telly.

The plan was to snatch a board game, fill it with spiders, and then offer to play it with Arianna and Luja, the bratty twins, and perhaps also along with other people as well.

So the two young preteens snatched the box full of spiders again and began tiptoeing down the halls. They were passing the hallway that lead to the much-nicer-than-the-rest-of-the-orphanage visitors room, when it happened.

IT happened.

Daphne dropped the box.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall's eyes narrowed as they swept over the run-down orphanage with disdain. She took in every detail - the cracks in the pavement, the weeds choking the few dead flowers in the yellow grass on the front lawn, the cracks in the sides of the building, everything. The place looked like it was about to fall over at any minute.

_This _is where Harry Potter had been living for about half his life?

She sniffed disdainfully, then checked to make sure she still had the Hogwarts letters with her in the pockets of her robes.

Yes, letters, plural. Surprisingly enough, there was another eleven-year-old orphan here with magic in her blood - a girl named Daphne Greengrass.

Steeling herself, she walked up the sidewalk to the front door of the orphanage and rapped sharply.

After a few moments' pause, the door swung open, and a young blond girl with plain, unattractive features who looked to be in her late teens early twenties peered out at Minerva. "Hello, ma'am; what may I help you with?" she asked, swinging one of her braids around her finger in a nervous habit. She clearly seemed taken aback at the site of the strange woman in glasses and robes, but didn't comment.

"I'm here to see...Mr. Well, the owner of this orphanage," Minerva told the young woman. "It concernts to of the...ah...charges here."

"Right this way, ma'am," she said, leading Minerva down a hall.

Minerva looked around the hallway. The paint on the walls was peeling, and the carpeting lining the floor was shabby. A few electrical lights gave off a dim glow, casting long shadows against the walls.

"Our visitors room is here," the girl continued, gesturing towards a door at the end of the hall. "Mr. Well will be there to greet you shortly." She then gave an awkward little curtsy and departed hastily.

Minerva looked around the room. Here, the paint on the walls was a light shade of blue, glossy and freshly applied. An open window framed with white lace curtains showed off a sunny view of a garden blooming with bright, colorful flowers, clearly much more well cared for than the decrepit excuse for a garden outside the other entrance of the orphanage. The seats were plush, leather upholstered, and soft. It was obvious to Minerva that the owner of the orphanage, this Mr. Well, spent all his available money on making the visitors room appear presentable and comfortable to the few visitors that did visit, and cared little to none about the rest of the orphanage, including the orphans in it.

Even though she had never met the man, Minerva began to feel an intense dislike for him.

She didn't have to wait long. After less than five minutes, an old man hobbled in. His hair was grey, his face lined, a what appeared to be permanent scowl etched into his face. It disappeared, however, when he caught sight of Minerva. There was an almost hungry look in his eyes. Clearly, his orphanage did not get many visitors.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms...?"

"McGonagall. Minerva McGonagall."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. McGonagool." His voice was dripping with honey. Minerva winced slightly. He had pronounced her name horrendously wrong. This and his simpering tone only fueled her dislike for the Muggle man.

"How may I help you?"

Minerva broke out of her quick reverie. "I'm here to speak to you about two of your...charges here."

"Oh? Are you thinking of adopting?" The man was nearly falling over himself in eagerness as he quickly sat into a chair opposite her. He obviously wanted to get rid of some of the children. Less mouths to feed, less money to spend on food. Her dislike increased.

"No, I am deputy headmistress of a private boarding school, and the families of two of the children here have entrusted me with the task of having their children attend - "

Mr. Well's smile was beginning to fade as he interrupted her in the middle of her sentence. "I'm sorry ma'am, but the orphanage cannot afford - won't even think about - paying expensive tuition for two of these...these _miscreants_ to go to a boarding school..."

"Their families have already paid, long ago," Minerva said sharply. "It is a very good school, and we may even find families to take care of them. Otherwise, they will be back only during summers..."

"Well, of course, of course," Mr. Well mused, perking up again. "There is the matter, of course, of a fee...we had to take care of all these children all these years; surely I - that is, the orphanage, gets some...compensation, of some sorts?" He directed an oily smile at Minerva, who frowned.

"Of course," she agreed, though privately she was itching to hex the impertinent Muggle man.

"Well then, that's agreed." Mr. Well nodded to himself and paused a moment before asking a question. "Who are the two children that - "

He was interrupted by a loud crash just outside the door. Immediately, he jumped up from his seat and ran, with surprising agility for a person his old age, to the door that lead to the hallway Minerva had entered from, and wrenched open the door. Mineva followed.

Her breath caught in her throat when she realized she recognized one of the faces of the children standing guiltily at the doorway. One was a girl, with long auburn hair, staring down at her feet, where she had accidentally dropped a cardboard box. Small black spiders were streaming from said box as Mr. Well berated the pair.

The second child was a boy. His hair was unruly and messy and black, and crooked glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. However, it was his stunning green emerald eyes that caught Minerva's attention as she answered Mr. Well's previous question.

"Daphne Greengrass and Harry Potter," she breathed.

* * *

**Cliffy! Sorta. Um, review? If I still have any readers of this story, that is XD**

**Also, I'm American, so I apologize if I get any information - telly? XD I dunno. etc. wrong. Or whatever.**

**If you tell me if you spot any mistakes, whether they be informational or grammatical or what, I'd appreciate it :)**

**Remember, I'm writing this in the Documents Manager thing, not Microsoft Word XD**

**Please read and review!**

**-xAndromedaBlackx-**

**(October 6th, 2008: chapter has been edited.)**


	4. Receiving the Letters

**W****hoa, a new chapter. This time, it isn't taking me a year to update though ;D**

**Also, I am going to try to make my chapters longer now. However, it may be longer between updates then, because of that. -shrug-**

**Thank you to all those who reviewed! Surprisingly, there are still a few readers of this story left ;o Well, anyways, enjoy the chapter XD**

* * *

"How could you, Daphne?" Harry hissed under his breath to his best friend as he effectively tuned out Mr. Well's rant about "troublemaking miscreants" ("miscreants" seemed to be his favorite word) and "ungrateful little brats." Daphne continued staring guiltily at the floor, only pausing in that particular activity to shriek as one of the small black spiders began crawling up her leg. She shook her foot for a moment and the spider went skittering off.

It was then that Harry noticed someone else standing behind Mr. Well. It was not, however, one of the many "maids" or cooks, or anything, that worked at the orphanage. Rather, it was a woman, probably almost as old as Mr. Well, but she gave off a different air, one of confidence and authority, rather than grumpiness like the esteemed orphanage owner did. Her greying hair was tied in a tight bun, and she was wearing glasses. Strangest was her attire - she was swathed in bottle green robes, rather than an old-lady dress that Harry would have expected someone of her age to wear. Then again, she did look rather stern. Perhaps she was a teacher. Or perhaps...

"Look, Daphne!" Harry snickered under his breath. "Old Well's got a girlfriend!"

He quickly adopted an innocent expression as "Old Well" himself turned to him at the sound of the young voice. "And you!" he barked angrily. "Always causing trouble! The two of you are nothing but trouble. Trouble, trouble, trouble. Why, I oughta - "

The supposed girlfriend of Mr. Well interrupted. Harry felt that he was right about her - she did sound stern, judging from just her voice. "Mr. Well, the two children that are to attend the school I talked to you about are, if I'm not mistaken, the two you are speaking to right now."

There was a long, astonished pause as everyone's brains processed the new information that had just spouted from what's-her-face's mouth. Daphne had heard "children," "school," and "mistaken" and was wondering what the hell the lady in weird clothes was talking about, and whether or not it concerned Arianna and Luja being sent off to some faraway school where they would hopefully be eaten by a giant octopus who would then barf them into outer space where they could drink poisonous tea with aliens and then... why yes, Daphne Greengrass did happen to have an overactive imagination.

Mr. Well's thoughts were something more along the lines of shock that the two children that had been picked for this exclusive private boarding school were these two _miscreants_, and glee at the thought that perhaps he would be able to get rid of said miscreants for a whole year, at the very least. He was already imagining much more time to himself, in which he could perhaps finally finish knitting that pair of socks for his elderly mother. Granted, he had started knitting the said pair of socks when he was still in his teens (which seemed so long ago), and his elderly mother was almost 100 years old and bedridden and had absolutely no use for a new pair of socks, but it was the thought that counted, right?

And Harry himself was rather surprised. _What? Mr. Well's going to send us off to school somewhere? Really?_ There were a few tutors at the orphanage who taught the children basic skills like easy arithmetic (one plus three equals four) and how to read and write, as well as the most basic concepts of grammar and spelling, but _school_? One where he would have to sit around in maybe a uniform and pen essays about the great kings and queens of England or something? Even if there was no Mr. Well there and Daphne would be going too, the horror of the thought of sitting around in a uniform penning essays was too frightening to even think about. _No thank you!_

There was a long pause before the strange lady spoke again. This time, the comments were directed at no one in particular. "I would like to speak to Daphne Greengrass and...Harry Potter in private," she said, her voice curiously strained.

Daphne and Harry exchanged looks before exchanging glasses. "Bye, Mr. Well!" they chorused in unison. Harry gave a large and rather fake grin at the orphanage owner and waved merrily at him to leave. Daphne gave him a bright smile and then mouthed, "Go away, you foul old cretin!" Only Harry noticed, and nearly choked trying to hold in laughter. Well, perhaps the strange woman who the friends had thought was Mr. Well's girlfriend at first noticed too - after all, she suddenly looked amused. And Mr. Well seemed to have noticed too - his scowl got considerably darker. Okay, so everyone noticed, and not just only Harry.

The moment Mr. Well was out of sight, the woman walked back into the visitors' room and gestured at the two children to follow. The small cardboard box, now empty of spiders (they had all gone scuttling off someplace), lay forgotten on the floor.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall was still rather breathless as she swept back into the visitor's room of the orphange in which Harry Potter had been dumped. And this was a big thing, because rarely anything left Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, breathless. But honestly. This was _Harry Potter _behind her! Harry Potter, son of Lily (Evans) and James Potter, two of the best students to ever grace Hogwarts with their presences. And two of Minerva's favorite students. She had never really gotten over their sudden, terribly tragic deaths.

And Harry Potter not only looked so much like his father, he acted like him too. Just meeting the boy for a few minutes had convinced her of this fact. The box of spiders his female companion had dropped was a definite sign that the boy loved playing pranks. And the way he acted - confident, at ease, and smirking and whispering conspiratorially to his friend as Mr. Well (very much like Filch, Hogwarts' caretaker, now that Minerva thought about it) yelled at them, reminded her of James Potter. Every bit of it all.

Minerva waited until the two children had stepped into the room to close the door. She uttered a quiet locking charm, and then a silencing charm that would ensure nobody would hear the conversation between them that was about to take place. Luckily, Daphne and Harry were too busy gawking at the luxuriously elegant visitors' room they had clearly never seen the inside of before to notice.

Minerva took a seat and gestured for the two children to do the same. They sat uncomfortably, shifting their weights from one side of the seat to the other, while continuing to stare about the room. Then, suddenly, the girl - Daphne Greengrass - turned to Minerva.

"I have a question, ma'am," she piped up.

Minerva eyed the girl warily. "Yes?"

Daphne sent a smug look in Harry Potter's direction. "Are you Mr. Well's girlfriend?"

Whatever Minerva had expected the girl to say, it certainly was not _that_. Even though she was a bit miffed at the question - who honestly would think she was romantically involved with something like _that_? - she couldn't help feeling a bit nostalgic as she watched the two friends snort with laughter at the question, and her reaction. She could just picture James Potter asking the same question, about that age, only with her and Dumbledore, a fake innocent look plastered on his features...

Minerva quickly shook her head, imperceptibly so Daphne and Harry didn't notice and question it. Now was not the time to dwell on the past. She had Hogwarts letters to deliver.

However, Harry, who was unnaturally sharp-eyed for his age, noticed the way she shook her head quickly and grinned, and mistook it for the answer to Daphne's question (it was, but it wasn't the reason she had shook her head). "Yeah, I know, who'd be romantically involved with something like _that_?" This set Daphne off into giggles once again.

Minerva blinked as the boy unknowingly echoed her previous thoughts.

She waited until the two had stopped laughing (which only took a good five minutes or so - just when she thought they'd died down with the laughter, one of them would start again, sending the other into fresh peals), before she spoke again. "The reason I am speaking to you two today is that you two have been invited to attend a private - "

"Boarding school, I know," Harry finished, cutting across her sentence. "And, er, do we get a choice? 'Cause I don't really, er, want to go."

Minerva was, needless to say, shocked. Harry Potter didn't want to go to Hogwarts? Sudden fury rose in her like a quickly inflating balloon. What had those despicable Muggles told him about Hogwarts that made him hesitate at the thought of attending? She saw the boy look at her, looking slightly alarmed, and realized that her fury must have shown on her face.

"Why not?" she finally calmed down enough to ask. Harry looked more subdued now. He shifted a sideways glance at Daphne before shrugging.

"I dunno, it just seems more fun to stay here and pra - I mean, just, um, stay here than have to go to some stuffy boarding school - no offense, ma'am," he added, "and wear a uniform, probably, 'cause you said it's private, and it's a _boarding_ school, which costs money, and I don't have money, and I bet Daphne doesn't either, and I don't want to write essays on Queen Elizabeth the - "

Minerva was slightly startled at the speed at which Harry Potter was babbling. She quickly interrupted his continuous stream of chatter. "First off, your parents have left you money to be able to attend and pay the fees," she told him (and the girl, too). "Miss Greengrass, Hogwarts has a fund for students who cannot afford tuition to be able to go." She briefly wondered how much the Muggles had told Harry Potter about Hogwarts - they definitely hadn't been fond of him, but surely they would have told him at least a little bit about the school itself, so he would get a basic gist of the classes there? The only class in which students might have to write an essay about any of the Queen Elizabeths would be that short period in fifth or sixth year in which students studied the history of Muggles in Muggle Studies class. And Muggle Studies was optional, anyway.

She was interrupted from her musing by Harry Potter's slightly curious voice. "Er, what's Hogwarts?" he asked, one of his eyebrows raised, clearly questioning the name of the school.

Minerva suddenly felt faintly angry. "You don't know what Hogwarts is?"

"Er, no." Harry Potter shared a glance with Daphne Greengrass, a confused look, one that clearly said something along the lines of _What the bloody hell is she babbling on about?_

"Hogwarts is a boarding school that teaches magic - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Minerva waited for the flicker of recognition to pass over the boy's face as he thought back to his life before the orphanage, with those atrocious Dursleys, and the familiar mention of the school he should have been told about.

It never came.

"Wait. Witchcraft and Wizardry?" This time it was the girl who spoke. "Magic? You mean magic is real?"

"Magic? Really?" The boy looked shocked, and then excited. "Magic is real?"

Minerva felt her lips purse together until they were a thin, almost invisible line (she knew this because she knew how other students claimed her to be frightening when she did this, which only happened one someone misbehaved badly) and her knuckles whiten as she clenched her wand inside her robes tighter. Despite the letter Albus Dumbledore had left with baby Harry on the Dursleys' doorstep, the Dursleys had obviously never explained about Harry's true heritage. Minerva wouldn't put it past them to have lied to the boy and told him that his parents had died in some sort of accident or something as well.

"Yes," she managed to get out between her almost-invisble lips. "It is. And Hogwarts is where you can learn it." Deciding to inform Albus about the new development later, as well as Harry, she reached into the pockets of her robes and pulled out the two Hogwarts letters, and handed them to their respective receivers.

She watched as the two children ripped open the envelopes and then silently scanned their letters. Then, Harry squinted suspiciously up from his (letter) at Minerva. "This isn't an elaborate joke or something, is it?" he asked, frowning slightly.

Minerva had to stifle the urge to smile slightly, despite everything. "No... it's not."

"Really?" Daphne asked, looking up from her own letter as well. She seemed to be reading slower than Harry. "Wicked."

"Show us some magic!" Harry demanded. He thought a moment and added, "Please."

Polite, too, despite his prankster ways. Minerva pulled out her wand and pointed at a vase of flowers sitting on a mahogany desk nearby and uttered a quick incantation. Then the flowers in the vase drifted up in the air and began whirling around happily in what was unmistakably a can-can.

Harry's and Daphne's jaws dropped open. "Wicked," Daphne repeated. "Is that a wand?" she added, pointing at Minerva's wand.

Minerva nodded and waved her wand again. The flowers stopped dancing and settled back down into the vase.

"Someone will be collecting you from the orphanage in approximately two weeks from now," Minerva told them. "You will go to Diagon Alley in London - it's like a shopping center, you could say, for magical items - to buy your school supplies, robes, and your own wands. You will be given more information on how to get to Hogwarts then. It is appreciated if you do not inform anyone else, not even the esteemed owner of the orphanage, of the magic part of the boarding school equation. Do you have any questions, before I leave to inform, ah, Mr. Well?"

There was a pause before Harry mumbled, suddenly quieter than he had before, "You said my parents wanted me to go to, er, Hogwarts? Did that mean they were magic too, and you knew them?"

This time, Minerva could not resist the urge to smile - just the tiniest bit - at the boy, sadly. "Yes, they were, and yes, I did know them. And you will meet plenty more people who did." She then removed the charms on the door to the visitor's room of the orphanage and left to seek out Mr. Wells.

Daphne and Harry glanced at each other, and suddenly the somber mood was broken as Harry grinned widely.

"It's going to be _so_ much more fun pranking people with magic."

* * *

**See? Told you this chapter was going to be longer! **

**Hopefully it's long… enough? I was going to add Diagon Alley in this chapter, but I think that would be TOO long, because I tend to be rather descriptive (I think; I hope?) and I just want to post this chapter now.  
**

**Anyways, if you think I missed something important I forgot to cover, or thought McGonagall was OOC (sorry, I'm not really good at writing her), or whatever, or you spot any spelling/grammar errors, or would just like to comment on the story, drop me a review!**

**-xAndromedaBlackx-**

**(October 6th, 2008: This chapter has been edited.)**


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